


Shut Up and Dance

by dragonimp



Series: Serpent's Dance [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, M/M, Pole Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:11:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8123023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonimp/pseuds/dragonimp
Summary: Hughes has some concerns about Roy's new love interest.  Roy isn't about to let that get in the way.  Now if only he could talk him into at least meeting Ed...





	

“He’s _how_ old, Roy?”

Roy folded his arms against the bar with a sigh. “I dunno, Hughes. You tell me. You’re the one who did the background check.”

“He’s _nineteen_. just _barely_ nineteen.” Hughes pointed an accusatory finger. “You turned _thirty_ last year.”

He threw up his hands. “So tell me then, oh arbitrator of romance: what _is_ an acceptable age gap?”

“It’s not the age difference, it’s the fact that he’s still a _kid_. You’re at completely different places in your lives.”

“You don’t even know him—”

“Neither do you!” his friend insisted. “You’ve talked to him, what, twice?”

“Three times.”

“Two minutes of flirting after watching him strip doesn’t count.”

“What do you want from me? Should I go up to him and say, ‘oh, I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t associate with you anymore, my friend think’s you’re too young—’”

Hughes whacked him over the back of the head. “I _want_ you to be _careful_ , Roy. You could be taking advantage of him without even realizing it. With that kid’s past—”

“Hughes!” Roy held up the hand that wasn’t rubbing his scalp and gave him a sharp look. “Is he an axe murderer?”

Hughes sighed. “Well, _no_.”

“A rapist?”

“No!”

“Some kind of spy or drug runner?”

“Of course not!”

“Then I don’t want to hear it.”

“Roy—”

“No! We’ve been through this! Do your background checks if it makes you sleep better at night, but unless there’s any red flags— _genuine_ red flags, Hughes—then I don’t want to hear it. Do you have any idea how awkward that is?”

He sighed again. “Fine. No, the kid isn’t a psychopath, not as far as I can tell. I’m just . . .” he hedged. “ _Concerned_. He’s a _kid_ , Roy. Legal or not, he’s still a kid.”

“I am aware of that,” Roy insisted.

“You’re the adult here,” Hughes went on. “You’re going to have to act like it.”

“Ouch.”

“Can you tell me that I’ve no reason for concern?” he pressed. “Can you tell me _honestly_?”

Roy stared at his glass.

“I know you never mean any harm,” he mollified. “But you get too invested and you stop thinking clearly. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t act as your auxiliary conscience?”

“Thanks,” Roy said, only half ironically.

Hughes patted his shoulder. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Roy finished his drink, giving himself time to mull things over. There was possibly the barest hint of an inkling of a point here, but he’d be damned if he was going to back off just as he was starting to get to know Ed. “You know, if you’re going to go digging into his personal life, you should at least _meet_ the guy. Maybe Friday—”

“I am _not_ going to a strip joint,” Hughes said with a glare. “Can you imagine how that would _look_? Me, a married man, going to see strippers?”

“ _Male_ strippers.”

“You say that like it somehow makes it less bad.”

“You would hardly be the only married man there.”

“ _No_ , Roy, you are not going to talk me into going to a strip club.”

* * *

Roy ran a hand along the brass pole, well patinaed from years of sweaty hands and arms and probably every other body part. “So how did you get into pole dancing, anyway?”

Ed had needed to grab something at the studio and had asked if he’d wanted to come along. The chance to spend some time with him away from the university and the constraints of class schedules wasn’t something he was going to pass up. Hughes should be impressed, this made five—six, by Roy’s counting—interactions so far.

“Through my mechanic, actually,” Ed said as he rooted around in the pile of coats and sweatshirts in the lost box. “She got an internship with Mr. Garfiel.”

Roy should have known. Garfiel was well known for his automail and somewhat less well known as the owner of several clubs, including The Serpent.

“Next thing I know she’s going on and on about what a great workout it is and dragging me along because she wants to do couple routines,” the young man continued. “I didn’t even know what pole dancing _was_! I thought it was some kind of—well—never mind.” He looked up from the bin with a grin. “Turned out to be a lot more fun that I thought.”

Roy leaned out and swung himself partway around the pole. “And the world is all the richer for it.”

Ed sauntered over, a bright red garment slung over his shoulder. “And me and my tuition payments are ever so grateful for this town’s population of horny men.”

“Horny men with _taste_ ,” Roy corrected. He nodded to the red garment. "Is that one of your outfits?"

"Outfits? Oh, for the stage?" Ed held it up: a red coat with some kind of caduceus design on the back. "Nah, it's just my coat. Long story. Winry keeps saying I should use it in one of my routines, but then I couldn't wear it around. I try to keep my work at least _somewhat_ outa my daily life.”

“And what about your mechanic? Does she still dance?”

“Only for fun. She was never into performing. But she’s still the only one I do partner stuff with.” He pulled out his phone, and after a few taps turned it around to display a picture. “That’s us over the summer.”

On the screen Ed was sharing the pole with a pretty blonde girl. She was clad in exercise shorts and a tube top, and appeared to be laughing as Ed held her suspended in the middle of some complicated maneuver. Roy had to admit (with perhaps some small amount of jealousy) that they made a stunning pair.

“If you don’t mind me saying so,” he remarked, “your mechanic’s hot.”

Ed turned the phone around and frowned at it as if he had never considered that possibility.

“What?” Roy laughed at the look on his face. “You don’t think so? Or do girls not do anything for you?”

“No, it’s not that, girls are fine,” Ed said. “It’s just—when you’ve known someone since you were in diapers, and a decade later you’re strapped down to a table trying not to scream while she’s bolting metal to your bones and clamping wires to your nerves—”

“Gyah!” Roy threw up his hands with a grimace. “Point taken.”

“She’s like my sister, anyway. Which means sometimes we hate each other as much as we love each other. I dunno, maybe it’s weird that we’re so casual and all, but it’s never been an issue. I mean, she _built_ a significant portion of my body. Of course we’re comfortable with each other.” Ed grinned abruptly, tucking his phone away and striding over to the stereo that sat on one side of the room. “Oh—while I have you here—”

“Why do I feel a sudden sense of foreboding.”

“Chill! It’ll be fun.” He fiddled with the stereo, and then the room filled with swing music.

Roy groaned. “You’re kidding.”

Ed walked back toward him with his hands held out. “Come on! I have it on good authority that you used to do this competitively.”

He pulled a face, but reluctantly accepted the hands. “What, did you do a background check on me or something?”

“Of course not!” Ed insisted, still grinning. “Al did.”

“I should have known.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I only glanced at the screen a couple of times.”

“Checking to see if I’m an axe murderer?”

“Something like that. Now quit stalling.”

“Ed, I haven’t done this in _years_.”

“Me neither. Now come _on_.”

Perhaps he should have been surprised that Ed’s proclivities extended beyond the pole. Perhaps he should have been impressed. Roy didn’t have time for either, because at that moment Ed yanked him forward, and since his choice was to either stumble into the move or fall on his face, he chose the former.

Laughing, Ed caught him and pulled him around, barely giving him time to find his feet. “You did some improv-style competitions, right? ‘Strictly’ swing?”

“Yes,” Roy allowed. It was starting to come back to him, once he stopped over-thinking and let muscle memory take over. “But my partner and I knew each other. And—” He planted his feet and twisted, forcing Ed to follow along this time. “—I was usually _leading_.”

Ed swung in close, his grin pure mischief. “Maybe it’s time you learned to switch it up.”

Roy met the grin with one of his own. “I’m pretty sure I could teach _you_ a thing or two about _switching_.”

“That sounds like a promise.”

“It is if you want it to be.”

Ed laughed. “Cocky-ass bastard. Now come on—less talking, more dancing.”

“As you wish.”

They were getting into the rhythm of it now. Pole dancing and swing were different beasts, but Roy was delighted to find that Ed not only knew what he was doing, he was damn good at doing it. The fact that they kept trying to wrest the lead from each other was working against them and would dock them major points in any competition, but Roy found himself enjoying their little duel. He wondered if this was indicative of things to come.

God, he hoped so.

The song drew to a close and Roy gracelessly dropped down to the floor, laughing too hard to properly catch his breath. “That was— _so_ bad,” he gasped out. “Riza would be appalled.”

“Who? Oh, your dance partner?” Ed dropped down beside him. He wasn’t nearly as out of breath. The brat.

Roy nodded. “Riza Hawkeye.” He took a couple deep breaths. “We took it up in high school as a way of getting her out of the house.”

Ed bumped his shoulder. “It sounds like you did pretty well for a while. Al said you place high in some big competition?”

“Nationals. Placed third.” He lay back with a groan. “Ages ago. I am so out of shape.”

Ed looked pensive for a moment before turning away.

Roy sighed. “I’m guessing you found my service record. Yeah, that’s why we stopped. More or less.”

“Sorry.” He folded his arms around his knees. “I really didn’t mean to pry. I just—saw it.”

He waved the apology away. “It’s public record. I enlisted out of high school because they would pay for my education.”

“Then the war broke out.”

“Then the war broke out.” It hadn’t been as tidy as that, but that would do for now.

“We lived in the east back then. I remember seeing soldiers go by—seemed like every week there was a new group of them. Then—then some of them started coming back. My neighbors—my mechanic and her grandmother—” Ed tugged the cuff of his slacks up, exposing the metal leg. “They saw a lot of the ones who came back.”

“I . . . was one of the luckier ones, in that regard.”

The atmosphere was getting a little heavy, and Roy thought a change of subject was needed before they went into things he really wasn’t comfortable talking about. He tugged on Ed’s belt. “By the way—tell your brother that makes us even.”

“Huh?”

“A friend of mine did a background check on you. Making sure you’re not an axe murderer.”

Ed laughed and fell back, grinning at him. “I could just be a really good one. Been covering my tracks real well.”

He grinned back. “You couldn’t cover them _that_ well. This is kind of his thing.”

“Axe murdering?”

Roy poked his side. (Ed squeaked and twisted away.) “Background checks! Intelligence gathering! Hughes works in investigations.”

“Your friend is a professional snoop?”

“Pretty much.”

“So did I pass?”

“—Of course!”

Roy must have hesitated a split second too long, because Ed pushed himself up and turned to loom over him, hands on either side of his shoulders. “Oh, don’t tell me—he thinks I’m _too young_?”

“No-oo. . . .”

Those beautiful gold eyes narrowed at him.

“It’s . . . more that he thinks I’m too old.”

Ed sputtered and broke into a grin. “For fuck’s _sake_. Tell your friend I can take care of myself.”

“You tell him. He’ll accuse me of bias.”

He affected a tragic expression. “He thinks you’ll take advantage of poor, innocent me?”

Roy smirked, brushing a hand up Ed’s thigh to rest on his hip. “How do you know I won’t? _I_ could be covering my tracks. I’m sure your brother’s good, but he couldn’t have the resources Hughes has at his disposal. I could be hiding it _really_ well.”

Ed’s grin looked lethal. “Bad news for you if you are.” He leaned down until their noses were almost touching. “I don’t do ‘victim’.”

Roy cupping the back of his neck was all the signal Ed needed. Teeth scraped against his lip, a tongue teased his and withdrew. Roy leaned up, squeezing his hip with one hand and twisting the fingers of the other in all that wonderful hair. Ed gripped his shoulders and held him there, leaning over and holding them both suspended with nothing but his core muscles. Roy moaned.

When they finally came up for air Ed straightened, easily pulling both of them upright.

“If you’re trying to impress me,” he said, sliding his hand to the other man’s stomach, “it worked.”

Ed laughed, making that plane of hard muscle jump. “I told you the pole is a good workout,” he said. “You wanna try it?”

“Me?” His aunt would probably keel over laughing. “I think I’ll keep my feet on the floor.”

“Aw, don’t be a stick in the mud.” He stood, and pulled Roy to his feet with one hand (and not even the cybernetic one). “You’d start gradually. I could teach you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Roy allowed with a laugh.

“You ever think about going back to competitive dance?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. At times it seemed like that Roy Mustang had been a completely different person. “Between work and classes, though, I don’t know when I’d have the time.”

“‘Train the body to train the mind.’ That’s what I was taught,” Ed countered. “It’s been backed up by science, you know. Physical exercise makes you more alert, better able to concentrate, improves memory—”

“All right, all right!” He laughed again. “Are you going to pull out charts and diagrams next?”

“Would it help?”

“Maybe.” Roy couldn’t help grinning. It had been a while since he’d been geeked out at. Politics just didn’t lend itself to that.

“Hey, bring your friend to the show tomorrow night,” Ed suggested. “I wanna meet this guy who’s digging into my life.”

He snorted. “Sure. And maybe hell will freeze over in the meantime.”

* * *

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Hughes grumbled.

“I didn’t,” Roy reminded him.

“You colluded with my wife.”

Roy had done no such thing. Gracia, darling woman, had taken it upon herself to convince her husband to “at least go meet the young man—and for Heaven’s _sake_ , enjoy the show. You didn’t stop being _human_.” In the end she had offered (threatened) to drive him down herself, and the thought of being dropped off at a gay club by his wife had finally made him cave.

Hughes sat there now at Roy’s favorite table, alternately fidgeting with and trying to conceal his wedding ring.

“Would you relax?” Roy sighed. “I _guarantee_ you’re not the only married man here.”

“As if that’s any consolation,” he muttered.

Roy leaned against the table. “Worried you won’t be able to pass as straight anymore?”

Hughes shot him a glare. “Oh, back off, Roy. You know that isn’t it.”

Just then the stage lights brightened, signaling the first act. Roy straightened, letting the matter drop for the moment with a last echo of, “For Heaven’s sake, enjoy the show.”

“I’m here under protest,” Hughes muttered back. “I just want to make that clear.”

Roy rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored him. He was here to enjoy himself, even if his friend wasn’t.

The Serpent didn’t disappoint. The first act was someone Roy hadn’t seen before, a wiry blond kid. He was good—plenty of charm and certainly enough attitude for the stage. But Roy couldn’t help comparing him to a certain other blond dancer and found that he just didn’t quite measure up. Maybe it wasn’t fair to compare them, but that was the business. Still, the kid was talented and Roy enjoyed the show.

Next up was a young man from the east. There was something sly and untrustworthy about him, but he made it work for him, turning it into part of his allure. Roy wondered how much of the exotic touches were genuine and how much was just for show, but it was an enjoyable act nonetheless.

Hughes leaned over just as the next act was getting started and whispered, “You know, I bet we could get Armstrong up on that stage.”

Roy choked, barely avoiding spraying his drink all over the table.

“I’m sure there’s some tradition of stripping that’s been passed down the family line for generations,” he continued, seemingly oblivious as Roy snatched up a napkin and tried desperately not to make a scene. “He throws off his shirt often enough. We just need to set it to some music—”

Roy finally kicked him in the shin.

“ _God_ , you’re horrible,” he hissed when he could finally speak. “If you ever suggest that anywhere near him I will _skin_ you.”

Hughes smirked. “Oh come on. I’m sure he’d enjoy it.”

He glared. “A little too much.”

Hughes settled down and to watch without comment, mollified now that he’d gotten a little bit of revenge. Roy glared at him a moment more, then set his elbows on the table and turned to the stage. There was no way he was going to let his friend ruin the next act..

The crowd was starting to build up its usual buzz of anticipation, rising to a crescendo as the stage lights brightened on a familiar golden figure.

Ed was wearing ripped jeans and a sleeveless denim jacket, with his hair pulled back in a low braid. His arm was on full view tonight, covered by only a studded leather cuff, and his knee flashed in the light through the rips in the jeans every time he moved. And—something that almost made Roy giggle out loud—a black bandanna swung from his right back pocket. Ed grinned at the audience, and the stage lights caught a new bit of metal, a gold ring in his lip.

Out of the corner of his eye Roy saw Hughes glance at him, but as far as he was concerned the world beyond the stage didn’t exist right now. Ed was in motion and Roy wasn’t about to look away.

The first thing Ed did was shake out his hair, and _damn_ did he make it look good. Hands and hips moved in counterpoint to each other in time with the music, making the simple act look downright sinful. Roy’s mouth was watering, remembering the feel of that hair between his fingers.

Ed dropped his shoulders back and let the jacket slide to the floor. The black tank was shed next, leaving that glorious expanse of abs and chest and metal exposed to the lights. He twirled the shirt for a moment before letting it go.

The tossed shirt nearly smacked Roy in the face and he almost upset his drink catching it. It would have been worth it. Ed probably couldn’t see the smirk from the stage, but Hughes certainly could.

“You’re not actually planning to keep that, are you,” he muttered.

“You’re damn right I’m keeping it.” Roy bundled it on the table next to his drink, safe under his hand.

Ed made quick work of the jeans, finishing with a little hip-shimmy flourish. He stopped next to one of the poles and folded himself down to the stage, legs straight out and head between his ankles. After a slick series of contortions he gracefully unfolded into a hand stand.

“Impressive.”

“Wait for it. . . .”

Back to the pole, Ed arched and caught it between his thighs, then lifted his hands from the floor as if it was the most natural thing in the world. For a moment he hung there, arms stretch out to either side and hair just brushing the stage, muscles taught and skin and metal gleaming.

Then he snapped up and grabbed the pole with both hands, customary grin firmly in place.

Roy stole a brief glance over and found his friend staring fixedly at the stage. He smirked, counting this as a victory.

He didn’t think he would ever get tired of watching Ed. The graceful contortions, the gravity-defying displays of strength. Every second this angel with a devil’s grin was on stage was a gift.

Once Ed had wrapped up and all generous tips were collected, Roy prodded Hughes with his foot. “Well?”

Hughes rubbed a hand over his face and adjusted his glasses, pretty clearly trying to collect himself. “Well.” Hd cleared his throat. “He’s talented. Not that I doubted you.”

He rolled his eyes. “No. You’re just doubting me about everything else.”

“Talent doesn’t mean maturity, Roy.”

“Come on then, _grandpa_. Ed’ll be done changing soon. We can meet him at the bus stop.”

Hughes stood. “Is it considered ‘changing’ when what he’s changing from is near nudity?”

Roy smacked his arm.

Outside Roy was surprised to find the bus stop vacant. He fingered the black tank he had carefully folded and stuffed in his jacket pocket and frowned. It wasn’t like the young man to risk missing the bus.

Hughes suddenly grabbed his arm, startling him out of his thoughts. “Roy! Is that General Hakuro?” He hunched down, trying to use his friend as a shield. “Shit! What if he sees me here?”

Roy looked from him to the man in question, who was definitely the general. “Calm down, would you?” he muttered. He pulled his arm away and stepped fully into the streetlight. Hughes hissed at him frantically but Roy ignored him, saluting the general with a smirk. No one would bat an eye to learn that _he’d_ been here, after all.

Hakuro, though, took a sudden interest in the other side of the street.

“He’d have to explain what he was doing here in the first place,” Roy pointed out. “Hakuro’s married too, you know.”

Hughes paused. “That’s . . . true.”

A familiar small figure in a red cap poked his head out from the alley behind the club. “Fuck, _thank_ you, I was hoping to avoid General Creeper.”

Roy raised his eyebrows at the appellation.

“You’re familiar with Hakuro?” Hughes asked.

“Is that his name? I’ve only had a couple run-ins with him, but all the guys here know him by reputation. Every club does.”

“General _Creeper_ ,” Roy repeated. “Oh, that is _gold_.”

Ed shrugged. “The guy is notorious for wanting ‘extras,’ and isn’t shy about throwing his rank around to get them. Garfiel doesn’t really like us to punch out customers so I try to avoid the douche when he comes around. He’s not here too often.”

“I imagine not,” Hughes said. “He got transferred out of Central last year.”

“I would pay good money to see you punch out Hakuro,” Roy said.

“Tempting, but I could lose my job.” Ed grinned. “Pay my tuition and I might consider it.”

He nodded toward the lip ring the young man still sported. “That’s a good look for you. New addition?”

Ed prodded the jewelry with his tongue. “It’s a clip-on. Every time I talk about getting one for real Al gives me this _look_ , like ‘don’t you have enough metal?’”

“You answer to your brother?” Hughes probed.

Ed looked at him with eyes wide. “You’ve never seen Al’s _look_.”

Just then Roy caught sight of the bus as it turned into the block—and passed by the empty bus stop. “Uh-oh. Looks like we made you miss your bus.”

“Shit. Well. . . .” He sucked on the lip ring. “I can get the next one.”

Roy was starting to think that lip ring should be illegal.

“The next one doesn’t come for another half hour,” Hughes pointed out.

“On a good night.”

“We could give you a lift,” Roy said. It was impulsive and maybe a little forward, but he thought it was worth the chance. “As long as you’re not afraid we’re going to try something unsavory,” he added with a smirk.

Ed grinned. “I almost want to tell you to try.”

“Oh, please do.”

“ _Okay_ , okay,” Hughes interjected. “I _am_ going to be in the car with you two. Please don’t make this night any more borderline than it already is.”

Ed slung his book bag over his shoulder. “Why, don’t you want to watch?” he taunted. “Front row seat.”

“I know for a fact he likes to watch,” Roy contributed.

“You’re both horrible.” He pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t enough to hide the blush. “Let’s just go before things get any more awkward and I ditch you both.”

“It’s my car. And I have the keys.”

“I’ve hotwired before.”

Roy smirked as Hughes tried to make his retreat to the car not look desperate. “Good luck explaining that one to Gracia.” He beeped the car open. “You know she’ll just make you drive back down here.”

Hughes gave him a _look_ as he opened the passenger seat but refrained from further comment.

Ed tossed his book bag in the back seat and bounced in after it. “It’s halfway across town, just FYI. Automail district.”

“That’s fine. Your mechanic’s place?” Roy guessed as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Yep. With both me and Al paying tuition, there’s no way we could have afforded a place of our own. We’re just grateful Granny decided to move the business into the city.”

Hughes watched the young man in the vanity mirror as Roy started the car. “You came here from the east, right? Out in the country?”

“Sheep country,” Ed confirmed. “Education pretty much stops when you’re sixteen out there. With all three of us in higher ed—me and Al in the sciences, Winry getting her surgery license—Granny said it just made more sense to move. And anyway it means less travel for most of her customers.” Ed loosened his seat belt and leaned forward, propping his elbows on the seat backs. “So how long were you two a thing?”

Roy glanced over and was met by his friend’s deer-in-the-headlights look. He laughed, shifting the car into gear and pulling onto the street. “That obvious, is it?”

“Kiiindaaaa,” Ed sang.

Hughes shook his head, looking resigned. “That was a long time ago. You’d be surprised how many people don’t believe it, let alone see it.”

Roy scoffed. People were always going to view them from a certain straight bias, but it often seemed to him that Hughes was too willing to let them.

“So? School romance?” Ed prodded. “Boyhood thing? What?”

“Most of basic training . . . how long would you say that was, Roy?”

“From the time we stopped hating each other to when we both got shipped off to our respective units? Mmm . . . eight, maybe nine weeks? We spent a good two weeks on the hate part.”

“Eight weeks?” Ed remarked. “That’s _it_?”

“It was an intense eight weeks.”

“There was never any sort of hard stop to the relationship,” Hughes explained. “Our paths crossed a few times during the war—”

“—And right after.”

“And afterwards. No break-up or anything dramatic like that. Life just . . . moved on.”

“And now you do background checks on his prospective dates.” Ed grinned. “Or am I just special?”

Roy laughed again, glancing over to spot Hughes indignant glare.

“You have a bit of an over-sharing problem, Roy.”

“Hey, his brother did one on me.”

“It’s true. Al researches everyone who gets near me. After that gang leader—which was totally _not_ my fault—”

Roy could practically hear his friend’s cogs turning. He couldn’t imagine that “formerly involved with a gang leader” had _not_ turned up on Hughes’ background check.

“It’s just the two of you, isn’t it?” Hughes asked. “You and your brother?”

“You tell me, Mister Investigations,” Ed shot back. “You’d probably have an easier time finding my deadbeat dad that I would. Not that I care about the bastard—but Al’s searched for him and come up empty.”

Roy had a sudden sinking feeling he knew what his friend’s big concern was.

Hughes rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. Prying’s a bit of a reflex now.”

Roy snorted.

“So? How do I measure up?”

“Compared to what? Some of Roy’s prior dates?”

“Hey!” Roy interrupted. “I’ll have you know I have excellent taste!”

“Sometimes.”

“What does that make you?”

Hughes smirked. “The ‘sometimes.’”

“You wish.”

Ed grinned. “Well _I_ have a wad of cash in my bag that says I am _very_ much to taste.”

“In _every_ way, I’m sure,” Roy purred.

“I’m impressed,” Hughes muttered. “That actually took longer than I thought.”

“We can make up for lost time,” Ed suggested.

“That is quite all right!”

“Take a left up here. We’ll go in the back way.”

“Are you sure?” Hughes asked as Roy did as instructed. “This part of town doesn’t have the best reputation.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Ed insisted. “I mean, I probably wouldn’t suggest you leave your car with the keys in it, but you’re not gonna get attacked or anything. And it’s much shorter through here. Take a right.”

“Isn’t this area where a number of refugee groups settled after the war?” Roy asked.

“Yeah. Looking for whatever work they could get. That’s why the cops don’t like this neighborhood. It’s got nothing to do with actual crime.”

“Bias didn’t end with the war,” Hughes agreed. “We all knew that.”

“Someday,” Roy muttered.

Ed poked him in the shoulder. “You _do_ want to rule the world. I knew it.”

“No, Roy just wants to protect the world,” Hughes interjected. “And you can’t do that from the bottom.”

“You make it sound too noble,” he protested. “I have a lot of personal reasons for not wanting another war.”

“Second building up there. That’s the back of Granny’s shop.”

As soon as the car was stopped Ed popped his seatbelt and contorted himself between the front seats, grabbing Roy by the collar and claiming his lips. The lip ring added an interesting element Roy was all too happy to explore.

“Hi, still in the car, here,” Hughes grumbled.

Roy smirked into the kiss and slipped a hand around to fondle Ed’s ass, which Hughes no doubt had an excellent view of. Shame he wasn’t wearing the leather pants.

Ed finally took pity and slithered back to collect his book bag and open the door. ”Thanks for the ride. That was _way_ better than the bus. Oh—if you go two blocks down and hang a left you’ll end up in downtown. Bye!”

Roy waved, watching until Ed was safely inside.

Hughes was glaring at him. Probably for that little goodbye kiss. Roy smirked. “Well?”

“He’s still young.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I still have concerns.”

“Mm.”

He finally let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. “But other than that—you fuckers deserve each other.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ed's punk aesthetic shamelessly ripped from [this little badass](http://tierfal.tumblr.com/post/119885308569/its-going-to-take-me-until-next-con-to-sort-my) ♥♥♥


End file.
